


A (Romantic) Gesture

by Phosphorite



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fic Exchange, Fluff, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phosphorite/pseuds/Phosphorite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is not a rom com – sometimes it's better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A (Romantic) Gesture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yakamoz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yakamoz/gifts).



> I volunteered to pinch hit for the First Annual Iwatobi Christmas Fest with a few hours' warning, so this might be one of the fastest fics I've written. I tried to make it slightly longer than the 1000 word limit to make up for the fact that we couldn't get this out on time with the other gifts.
> 
> So here's to you Halcyonic, I sincerely hope you enjoy what little I managed to scrape together anyway! And a happy belated Christmas and thank you for attending the exchange!

 

The problem with romantic gestures in life is that, more often than not, you are not actually alone with such thoughts. What books and films and reruns of that cheesy, tear-jerking TV drama never tell you is that out of all the billions of people on the Planet, or even the thousands of people in your town, someone else might have had the idea to propose to their loved one on Valentine's Day or go honeymooning in Paris. Hell, maybe the fact that your local convenience store runs out of chocolate before each White Day should be some kind of indicator on that very fact, but sometimes things like these don't really sink in until you realize the scale of your monumental mistake.

Like arranging a meet-up at Hachiko's on New Year's eve. 

Rin thinks of this, briefly, when the fifth person elbows him in the chest with her designer bag; he thinks of it again when someone steps on his toes. It's not like he didn't know there would be other couples wanting to meet up at the most popular meeting spot in Shibuya –Rin's not a _total_ idiot– but he was also stubborn enough to think that it didn't _really_ matter. In his head, the concept of "other people" existed in a cocoon on the level of theory alone, because in romantic comedies the crowds always mysteriously part to pave way for the main couple. _Meeting someone special at Hachiko's statue_ was, therefore, something Rin had always wanted to cross off his bucket-list, and now that Makoto was studying in Tokyo it seemed like the perfect opportunity to fulfill that particular dream.

Not that he would ever admit as much outright –how terribly corny and clichéd is _that_ – but while there was a hint of initial doubt in Makoto's voice when Rin suggested it, the fact that he didn't waste a single word trying to persuade Rin either was enough proof that Makoto probably knew anyway.

But as much as that thought embarrasses and relieves Rin simultaneously, now as it did then, he's kind of starting to hope Makoto had cared less about his fragile romantic dreams and more about reality; the sixth person who accidentally bumps into Rin during the ten minutes he spends waiting for Makoto, well, chances are he escapes with his life solely on the basis that Makoto also chooses that exact moment to appear.

(See, that's one thing romantic comedies don't tell you either: if you have to pick a popular spot, at least also pick a tall partner.)

Of course, Makoto's smile is enough to wash away the aggravation; he's late because of _last minute work, hope you didn't wait for long, nah it's fine, I wasn't bothered_ ; they're words of exaggerated casualness, dictated by their surroundings rather than their true feelings, which is why Rin momentarily feels grateful to the crowds for allowing Makoto to conceal the way he lightly touches on Rin's wrist.

(It's been longer than Rin even cares to think about since the two of them last saw each other in person; and while technology allows for so much, it also only allows for _so_ much, and that touch leaves something electric coursing all the way from his skin to his spine.)

It's also the reason he finds it hard to concentrate later, pushing a piece of cake around in a café in Ikebukuro. Time has been his enemy for so long, it feels like a waste to spend it on something as trivial as a courteous date; but it's also something Makoto has arranged for them beforehand, so Rin can't bring himself to decline. Of course, Makoto's plan turns out to be as nonsensical as Rin's decision to meet up at Hachiko's: the café is just as crowded, only with tiny, meowing cats instead. From the moment they sit down, there are approximately five to six kittens trying to force themselves on Makoto's lap at any given time, meowing and purring like tiny steam engines while the seemingly-oblivious Makoto calmly shares the events of his past couple of months in detail.

(It's... endearing and ridiculous all at once, and Rin wishes he could snort at the sight but all that comes out is a low chuckle instead.)

By the time they step outdoors, the weather has grown colder; while it's rare to get this much snow in Tokyo, it's even rarer for that snow to turn into an outright blizzard. Navigating through throngs of people once more becomes a chore, and while half of the trip is spent on the train, Rin nonetheless finds himself dreading the moment they have to cross the distance between the station and Makoto's house by foot.

But Makoto simply grabs his hand, pulling him along; the snow hits Rin right in the face like a rain of ice, which instinctively makes him close his eyes. Three seconds in he realizes it doesn't matter, though, because Makoto's hold is strong and firm and makes Rin want to lean into its earnestness, in all the ways Makoto is capable of taking over his senses when he himself cannot.

The clothes that stick to him like relentless glue is a sensation Rin cannot ignore as easily, however, once they catch the final corner of the road and arrive at Makoto's apartment block. His hair hangs frozen against his cheeks like crystallized ice, and the wind has stolen all feeling from his fingers. When they step indoors, within heartbeats the snow begins to melt; as it soaks through Rin's clothes, the coldness settles into his bones anew.

Makoto must notice this, the chill that runs through Rin like a current, because he shoves him in the direction of the bathroom; _you need to take those off, what the hell, I mean you'll catch a cold, yeah well maybe_ ; and Makoto laughs at the way Rin swears when he fails to pull off his shoes, shrug off his coat or even tug away his scarf with numb fingers; and although Makoto is probably just as soaked (if not more so, given that he probably shielded much of the snowstorm by walking ahead of Rin), he leans his hands over Rin's shoulders, brushes across Rin's arms, and eventually disentangles him from the mess of stiff, drenched clothing with meticulous ease.

(There's something tentative yet steadfast to his gestures, like Makoto works through the moment without stopping to dwell on it on purpose; Rin doesn't pick up on it at first, but the dots connect by the time he's stripped down to his underwear and Makoto gently nods towards the shower – _a hot shower would probably be a good idea, do you want to go first, no I mean together, oh_ – which leaves a light, pink hue adorning his cheeks.)

It's strange, what two months can do; while they are hardly strangers to each other's bodies, the concept of _here and now_ has nonetheless been so distant to Rin for so long that it takes him a moment or two to readjust, like trying to reprogram his mind into understanding that it's alright to touch Makoto at all – that when Makoto tugs him by the wrist anew, the electricity that shoots through him no longer needs to be concealed.

Still, he finds a tiny relief in hiding himself in the rush of water, once it hits his skin; the contrast is almost scathingly hot for a few, despairingly long seconds, before the temperature evens out and leaves a languid warmth coursing in his veins instead. He uses that, too, to disguise how his breathing thickens the moment Makoto's arms hasten around his waist, head nestling on his shoulder; _hey, mhmhm, I'm glad you're here now, uh huh, does that mean you missed me too, stop laughing, I'm not laughing, well you were chuckling, is it okay if I do something else then, is it what––oh_ ; but when Makoto tumbles his lips over the side of his neck, there's not a whole lot Rin can do to disguise the sound that leaves his mouth, nor does he particularly want to.

He can feel Makoto's smile through that kiss, of course; it's something he's always done, which lights Rin up with memories of all the times he spent trying to imagine this exact feeling through the sound of Makoto's voice, unable to reach through his computer to put what he missed the most into words. And it's not that he can still verbalize it, not quite like that, but it makes him yield into Makoto's chest anyway, taking in the sense of security that overwhelms him now as it did at the station – only tenfold.

It would be so easy to fall prey to that lull of solace, knowing Makoto would not mind it in the slightest, but no; once Rin feels Makoto's hands shift from his waist, Rin grabs onto his wrists instead, turning to face him head on. It's not that he wouldn't enjoy making the most of Makoto's undivided attention –as he has enjoyed it, many times in the past, since he's not _that_ strong of will– but he needs this moment too, to make Makoto remember that he's still something worth waiting for.

Because Rin knows,

(that he needs to put in twice the effort, exactly for the reason that Makoto would never once dream of questioning that fact in the first place;

twice the effort, to prove to _himself_ that he deserves this, deserves the radiance in Makoto's gentle eyes, clouded over in seconds when Rin's arms tangle around his neck as he pushes up against Makoto's chest, pulling him down in a heavy, resolute kiss.)

The irony of being apart from the person you love is that within moments, what starts out with hesitation and bewildered glances will stagger over in a frenzy of self-inflicted urgency; it's so easy to give in to muscle memory and the slightest recollection of raw need, to the point where any lofty ideas Rin may have about returning Makoto's selfless affections fly right out of the window right about the moment he senses Makoto hardening against his abdomen. It triggers in him a similar, senseless need to _feel_ , without reserve or delay, which is why he doesn't brush Makoto's arm away a second time once it snakes between them.

And should he still hold onto his former resolve, that incessant spark of pride at the back of Rin's mind probably would not allow Makoto to put in all the effort; but the thing about Makoto is that he has always managed to sneak under Rin's skin with his honest devotion, a sincerity that leaves Rin as baffled as it does flattered; and although there are times when it makes him want to scream and combust out of the sheer weight of inferiority, enveloped by such unconditional _love_ , there are other times –times like this– when he's too exhausted to conceal his neediness, choosing to revel in it instead.

It's enough to dispel his embarrassment, when a low, choked moan escapes his lips as Makoto's hand closes around both of their erections at once, his lips having drifted to the groove between Rin's jaw and ear; it instinctively makes Makoto's grip tighten, at which Rin's arms clamp around his neck with unintentional vigor. As the fingers of Makoto's left hand dig into the skin at the base of Rin's spine, Rin can literally feel the water pooling in the arc of his back, the jolt of a reflex forcing him to thrust harder against Makoto. And for a second, Rin could _swear_ he can hear Makoto laughing against his neck, but then it's gone, the sound drowned out by the water and the noise of Rin's heart in his ears.

It doesn't take long, of course, for time and distance to do their bidding – if romance is rarely individual, lust seldom leaves one contained. But perhaps that's also why Rin feels but vague remorse upon the moment of his climax, when the tendons on the backs of his legs strain as he intuitively leans into Makoto; once his head rolls back and he finally catches glimpse of the heady expression on Makoto's face, the little that is left of his breathing comes out in frazzled gasps.

(It's alright, of course; because it's not long before Rin's memory kicks in – an impish, self-assured memory that no amount of insecurity can trample, because Rin _knows_ that when he tilts his head, eyes still glossed over in the aftermath of his orgasm, it only takes a wry, unashamed smile of pleasure to send Makoto over the edge in return.)

This time, a few minutes later when they're both reduced to a heap of human limbs on the floor, Makoto's laughter rings out weary but clear; he doesn't flinch, even when Rin shoves at him with suspicion ( _what are you laughing at, you, w-what––, no it's––, gee thanks––, I meant it makes me laugh, what does, how happy you make me_ ) and ultimately kisses Rin lightly to absolve him of his furiously blushing face.

Rin is quick to forget his embarrassment once he pulls on dry clothes and runs a towel through his hair, though. Outside, the blizzard is still raging with no intention of coming to an end, but luckily this does not seem to affect the cable; were the rest of the apartment anything larger than a double, Makoto might disappear into the kitchen, but now he simply hovers by the fridge a few feet away while Rin makes himself at home under the kotatsu near the TV. A brief look of panic crosses Makoto's face when he realizes having forgotten to buy snacks for New Year's eve, but he does locate a small bowl of tangerines, which Rin insists is already far more than he can force down after the shortcake at the café.

It's a lie, though – ultimately it's Rin who ends up eating half the tangerines. It's not like he can help it, though; Makoto's chest under his back is still as solid and soothing as ever, his legs are warm underneath the kotatsu and the bowl is _right there_ , tempting him while the rest of Rin's mental capacity is engaged by a particularly cheesy TV drama that neither one of them has the heart to switch. And it occurs to Rin, that it's just one of those things that books and films never mention – that sometimes a romantic gesture isn't about weekend trips to Venice or gratuitous proposals on the top of Tokyo Skytree, but... _this_ ;

(the warmth of Makoto's smile on the nape of his neck, the way it tickles and tingles on his skin simultaneously)

and this time, it's Rin who laughs, and somewhere outside this room the snow keeps falling all the way into the New Year.

 

 

-fin

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing Makoto/Rin – I guess I could do in the future, if the right idea strikes me? Still, thanks for the opportunity to step outside my regular box!


End file.
